


The Promise

by Titch360



Series: My Version of Events [14]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 03:17:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18460367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titch360/pseuds/Titch360
Summary: I'll be there for you.  These five words I swear to you.  When you breathe, I want to be the air for you.  I'll be there for you.--Bon Jovi





	The Promise

The Promise

 

The days were interminable.

The nights were worse.

The past week had seen all the life sucked out of Stately Wayne Manor, and its residents walking the halls, looking gut-punched.  A week ago today; no, yesterday; a fairly standard, yet dangerous Justice League mission had gone about as bad as it could go.  An intergalactic being named Darkseid had threatened the galaxy with devastation and destruction, and it was up to the Justice League to put him in his place.  They had, but at a terrible cost.

Batman didn’t come home.

Superman saw it all happen.  A beam that Superman thought Batman had dodged successfully took a series of impossible turns to find its intended target, the side of Batman’s head.  For a second, all Superman could see was the infinitely surprised look on the Dark Knight’s face, before a blinding flash caused the Man of Steel to turn away.  When he turned back, the smoking skeletal remains, which had once been his friend and comrade, nearly caused Superman to throw up.  In a blinding flash of light, Superman had lost his best friend, and had nearly lost his mind as he threw himself at Darkseid in a furious attack.

If you asked him later, Superman couldn’t tell you how he got home from the battle.  His mind was consumed with one thought.  How was he going to explain this to those left behind?

Somehow, he found a way.

Superman thought he sounded like a callous ass as he coldly and clinically informed the faithful butler, the first son, and the new addition, that their beloved father, mentor, and surrogate son had been reduced to a black canvas bag full of bones.

He wasn’t surprised when Alfred fainted.

He wasn’t surprised when Dick collapsed, wailing and crying inconsolably.

He wasn’t surprised when Damian froze, too shocked to breathe, let alone form words.

Superman expected all of these reactions, but he didn’t currently have the ability to address them.  All he could do was mumble a lame apology and a promise to check in on the family soon, then beat a hasty retreat, so he could go home and find his own solace in the arms of his wife and young son.

Knowing he screwed up in how he presented the news, Superman made several trips to Wayne Manor over the next few days, to check on the bereaved family.  On his first trip, he found a strange sight.  Damian was sitting on the ground in the cave, staring at the Zeta Tube.  The boy had jumped to his feet when the tube activated, only to have his hidden hopes dashed when Superman beamed into the cave, instead of his father.  Damian just growled and left the cave at the sight of Superman.  Superman had only spoken in an interactive way with the boy once in the child’s two-month residency at Wayne Manor, and didn’t know if this was normal behavior for Damian.

Dick, who had been watching Damian from the shadows, told Superman that no one was doing well in the manor, and they just needed time.

There was such heavy denial of events in the Manor that Dick couldn’t even report Bruce as dead.  The official word the family put out was that Bruce had left on an extended sabbatical, and would be unreachable for the foreseeable future.

Superman left Wayne Manor feeling worse than he had when he arrived.

A week and a day after Bruce’s untimely death, Alfred found the door to Bruce’s study cracked open, and went to investigate.  The Butler had found young Damian sleeping in there one night, earlier in the week.  He didn’t have the heart to shoo the child out of the room, but he didn’t think the space looked right with anyone but Bruce behind the desk.

Today, it wasn’t Damian in the room, but Dick.  Dick had his head resting on his arms on top of the desk, and was sobbing quietly.

“My dear boy,” Alfred said quietly, “Please, don’t do this to yourself.  Allow yourself time to recover.  No one said this would be easy.”

Dick’s head came up slowly, and Alfred noticed a stack of papers on top of the desk.  “What is all this,” Alfred asked.

Dick sniffled wetly, “I…I’m trying to register Damian for school, but the form needs to be signed by a parent or guardian.”

“I see,” Alfred said softly.

Dick looked down and picked up a form, “I picked one of these up, but I can’t bring myself to sign it.”

Alfred’s eyes widened as he read over the Temporary Guardianship form, “Oh, my.  Master Dick…”

“I just can’t do it, Alfred,” Dick interrupted, with tears making another appearance on his face, “If I sign that and submit it to the court, it’s like admitting Bruce is…is de…is gone.  I can’t do that.  I can’t.  I can’t take Bruce’s son.”

“You aren’t taking Bruce’s son,” Alfred said softly, rounding the desk and resting a hand on Dick’s shoulder, “You are doing what Master Bruce would want you to do.  You are putting Master Damian’s needs above your own, and trying to normalize life for him.”

Dick stood, turned, and embraced Alfred tightly, “How can he be gone, Alfred?  This was never supposed to happen.  I wasn’t done with him yet.  I want my Dad back.  I need my Dad.”

“I know, Master Dick,” Alfred said, returning the hug and trying to hide his own tears.

“Haven’t I lost enough parents for one lifetime,” Dick asked in a lost tone as he dissolved into tears, “I can’t do this without him.”

Dick leaned heavily on Alfred, his grief taking over.  Alfred let Dick cry, and stopped hiding his own tears as he thought of how much Dick sounded like a young Bruce, trying to make sense of his own loss, all those years ago.

“Young man, you must let yourself grieve before taking on these responsibilities,” Alfred said after several minutes of silence, “Master Damian appears to be a bright child, but he most likely has never attended a regular school.  These decisions don’t need to be made right now.  Perhaps we should hold off on sending him to a school until the start of the next school year, instead of starting him this next semester.  Give him some time of his own to heal, and to adjust to living here.”

A large crash in the hallway caused both Alfred and Dick to jump in surprise.

“What the hell was that,” Dick asked.

Dick and Alfred walked out of the study and looked around.  At the end of the hallway, leading into the Grand Foyer, a grandfather clock, one of eight in this part of the house, and two hundred years old if it was a day, was laying face down on the hardwood floor.  Glass, springs, and intricate components of the antique Bavarian timepiece were arrayed around the broken clock, where they had fallen out of the cracked and splintered case.

In the distance, Dick could have sworn he could hear small feet climbing the stairs at a rapid pace.

“Do you suppose it was clumsy robbers, Master Dick,” Alfred asked.

“Seriously, Alfred?”

Alfred sighed, “I can give a lost, grieving boy the benefit of the doubt.”

Dick had to take a very deep breath before he could say, “I guess, but he can’t think he can get away with something like this and use grief as an excuse.”

“No,” Alfred said, “There is a limit, and he is right up to the edge of it.  However, I can’t count how many items his father intentionally smashed after his own parent’s death.”

“I guess it’s time to talk to him,” Dick said, then sighed, “I don’t get it, Alfred.  He hasn’t talked to anyone since we got the news, then he turns around and does this.  Was I like this when I first came here?”

Alfred shook his head, “No.  He is acting more in the manner of Master Jason, when Master Bruce first brought him home.  Were you able to reach Master Jason?”

Dick sighed, “Yeah, I got in touch with him yesterday.”

“And, Master Dick,” Alfred asked, “What did he say?”

“I’d like to say he was upset,” Dick said with a sniff, “but I just don’t know.  I can’t read him the way I used to be able to.  He’s so closed off, now.”

“We each mourn in our own ways, Master Dick.”

Dick nodded sadly, “I mean, I know they didn’t get along, but I thought he would have had a little more of a reaction.  You would have thought I told him that his pizza was going to be delivered late, instead of telling him that his father was…gone, for all the reaction I got from him.”

“You’ve done what you can for him, Master Dick,” Alfred said, “You will always be open to Master Jason, I know your heart, but you must allow him to make the next move.”

“I know,” Dick said, then sighed, “I guess it’s time to make another move, right?”

Alfred nodded, “I believe you are right.”

Dick shook his head, “I wish I had to have this talk with Timmy.  He was so much easier to understand, and much less violent.  He didn’t have to run off to the Titans.”

“I spoke with him yesterday,” Alfred said, “He will be home in a day or two.”

Dick nodded, “He told me that, too.  I can’t put this conversation off anymore, can I?”

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” Alfred said, “As painful as this is, this is a good time to get to know your new brother, whether he wants you to or not.”

Dick headed for the stairs, “Have the first aid kit ready, just in case he stabs me.”

Dick stood outside of the closed bedroom door next to his own for several minutes, trying to build up the courage to confront the boy.  Damian had only spent two months in the Manor, and he really hadn’t opened up to anyone.  In fact, he had done his best to push everyone away.  Damian had said several times that, as Bruce’s only real son, he would only listen to Bruce.  He had done his best to stick to that statement.

Dick knocked on the door and waited to be acknowledged, but no answer came.  He waited ten minutes before knocking again.

A small voice answered this time, “Go away.”

Dick rolled his eyes and knocked again on the closed door.

“Go away,” Damian said, a little louder this time.

Dick sighed and knocked a fourth time, harder this time.

Dick was still knocking when Damian ripped the door open and shouted, “I said, fuck off!”

Damian tried to slam the door, but Dick shoved it open, walked into the room, and simply said, “No.”

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, you ass,” Damian asked, glaring at the man.

“I don’t appreciate that tone of voice, Damian.  Or that language.”

Damian crossed his arms over his chest and tried to look larger than his ten-year old frame would normally allow.  “I’m sorry that the English language offends you so much, but I didn’t ask you to come in here.  In fact, I clearly told you to leave.  I don’t want you here.”

Dick shot a smirk at the boy, “Your mouth says leave, but your actions say stay.”

Damian pulled a knife from his belt, “No, my mouth says fuck you.  My actions say leave or die.”

Dick sighed, “Very well, if that’s how you want it.”  Dick walked to the door, and could hear the victorious smirk forming on Damian’s face.  Instead of leaving, Dick closed the door and turned back to the youth, “Kill me.”

Damian flipped the knife in his hand, to grab it by the blade, and threw it at Dick.  Dick moved his head a fraction of an inch to the left, and the knife just barely missed his ear before sticking in the door.

Dick released a breath, “Sloppy.  Very sloppy.  I thought you were some super assassin?  How could you miss a target my size, when I’m only standing ten feet away?”

 _How did I miss,_ Damian asked himself as he pulled another knife, this one from his sleeve, “That was a warning.  I won’t miss again.”

Dick took a couple steps forward, “Wrong, you won’t attack again.”

“You don’t know me very well,” Damian said, lunging at Dick with the intent of plunging the knife deep in Dick’s stomach.

Dick took a more active defensive strategy this time and parried the thrust.  Undeterred, Damian spun and brought the knife around, slashing at Dick’s neck.  Dick leaned back and the swipe passed by safely.  Damian spun the knife and aimed a strike at Dick’s right side.  Dick just barely brought an elbow down to block Damian’s wrist, but the point of the blade was a lot closer to Dick’s side than he thought it would be.  Damian dropped to a knee and swept his left foot at Dick’s legs.  Dick jumped into a back handspring to avoid being knocked to the ground.  Damian followed Dick faster than the older man thought the boy would move.  Another swipe of the knife managed to slice Dick’s sleeve, but missed his arm.  Damian pressed his advantage with a series of swipes and stabs, which backed Dick up to the wall.

On the next stab, Dick grabbed Damian’s wrist and twisted.  The movement was carefully executed to disarm the boy, but not snap the wrist.  The knife clattered to the floor and Dick kicked it away, under the bed.  The second he spent making sure the blade was out of reach cost him a fist to the cheek.

Dick let go of Damian’s wrist and shoved the boy away.  Damian rolled backwards and came up in a fighting stance.  His eyes were blazing and he was shaking with barely contained rage.

Dick gave a sad nod and said, “Get it out of your system, Damian.”

Damian snarled, “The last time someone told me that, I killed an entire attacking League of Shadows force.  Thirty of the best warriors the League of Assassin’s mortal enemy could train.  You’re just one man.  You can’t stop me.  It’s only a matter of time before you’re dead, too.”

That thought had occurred to Dick, but he didn’t have time to pursue it.  With a rising war cry, Damian charged at Dick and launched a flying kick to the man’s head.  Dick blocked it, but there was more power behind the attack than Dick expected, and the move knocked Dick to the floor.  Damian quickly followed up the strike with a kick to the ribs.  Dick nearly bent in half, sideways.  He knew, if Damian had been wearing shoes when he kicked him, Dick would now be looking at broken ribs, and possibly a punctured lung.

Damian was going to kill Dick, if he didn’t put a stop to it.

Damian jumped and dropped his knees on Dick’s chest.  The boy only weighed eighty-five pounds, but the attack still knocked the wind out of Dick.  It took him a second to catch his breath, and in that time, Damian started raining wild punches down on Dick’s head.  Dick was able to block some of them, but most found their mark.

Dick pulled his legs up in a move more suited to a circus act than a fight, and wrapped them around Damian.  The move surprised the youth, and Dick used the half second the surprise bought him to maneuver Damian off his chest.  Damian rolled away, and Dick let him go.  Both stood and faced off again.

 _He’s not tiring,_ Dick thought.  _I don’t want to hurt him, but how do I stop this without one of us getting serious injuries?_

“I don’t want to hurt you, Damian,” Dick said, surprised that he was starting to get winded, “I just want to talk.”

“That’s too bad, because I want to hurt you,” Damian said.

Dick sighed, “Why?  Why do you want to hurt me?”

“You’re just like them,” Damian spat.

“What does that mean?”

Dick dropped his guard as he asked his question, and, trained to look for any weakness, Damian pounced.  A quick series of punches were thrown at Dick’s face and stomach, and it was all Dick could do to stay on his feet.

Dick finally was able to grab Damian’s arms and yanked them out to the side.  He was amazed by the strength in the pre-teen, as Damian was able to jump and plant both feet painfully in the center of Dick’s chest.  The two were both sent crashing to the ground by the move.  Damian used momentum to pop back to his feet, while Dick stayed down for a second.

It was a second too long, as Dick found himself on the defensive against another hail of punches aimed at his head.

The fight had finally worn through Dick’s patience.  With a bleeding nose, blood trickling from a cut cheek, and a black eye that was swollen half shut, Dick shoved upwards as hard as he could.  His hands contacted Damian’s chest and pushed the child up and off of him.  A quick sweep caught Damian’s left ankle, throwing his balance off.  As the boy stumbled, Dick got to his feet and moved closer.

Growling, Damian kicked at Dick.  Dick blocked with a kick of his own and swiped at Damian, trying to grab hold of the boy.  Damian dodged back, then jumped up on the bed and used the bounce off of the mattress to flip at Dick, trying to bring his heel down on the top of Dick’s head.  Dick dodged, but the strike caught him in the shoulder.  Again, if Damian had been wearing shoes or boots, Dick was certain he would now have a broken collarbone.

Damian stumbled on his landing, and even with a sore shoulder, Dick took full advantage of the extra second he was given.  Dick tackled Damian, pinning both arms above the boy’s head as he sat on his chest.  Damian started kneeing Dick in the back painfully, until Dick hooked his feet around Damian’s legs, immobilizing the youth and bringing the fight to an end.

“Get off me, you bastard,” Damian snarled, “I’ll kill you.”

Dick smirked, “I’ll kill you?  Yeah, that’s real incentive for me to let you go.  I think we’ve had enough of this, don’t you?”

“Fuck you,” Damian said, shaking with rage and trying to break loose, “Your only choice now is to kill me, because I’ll never stop.  I won’t stop until you’re dead.”

“Again, you aren’t giving me a good reason to let you go.  I happen to like living.  I’m not ready to die yet.”

“You can’t win, asshole.  I was trained by the best.  I can’t be beat.”

Dick smirked down at the boy again, “Who is sitting on who here?”

“This is nothing,” Damian shouted, “I’ll outlast you, and then, you’re dead.  That is a solemn promise.  Your plebian training is nothing compared to Assassin training.  You have no idea how much I’m going to enjoy ending your life.”

Dick’s look sobered, “You know your father trained with the League of Assassins, right?”

“Of course,” Damian spat, “Where do you think _I_ came from?”

“Who do you think trained me,” Dick asked.

Damian didn’t answer, and Dick nodded, “That’s right.  Bruce trained me.  He taught me all the secrets he learned from training with your Grandfather.”

Damian started struggling again, “Yeah?  Well, Grandfather taught me all the secrets he didn’t teach Father.”

Dick gave a soft smile, “Oh yeah?  Was one of them how to get out from under someone who weighs more than twice what you weigh, when they’re sitting on your chest?”

“I could get out of this if I wanted to.”

“So, you _like_ me sitting on you?”

“I’m going to make sure it hurts a _lot_ when I kill you,” Damian snarled.

Dick’s smile grew, “I think you _do_ like me sitting on you.”

“I think you hit your head one too many times,” Damian said, “You’re delusional.”

“Then, do something about this.”

Damian did. 

Damian shot his arms out, straight above his head.  Dick was holding on to Damian’s wrists, and had to bend forward to keep hold of the boy’s arms.  As Dick bent down, Damian lifted his head and headbutted Dick.  His forehead hit Dick’s eyes, causing excruciating pain and several seconds of blindness as his optic nerves reacted to the impact.  Damian used those seconds, and his newly freed hands, to attack Dick’s midsection.  Dick rolled off the boy, who popped to his feet.

Damian walked over to the door and yanked the knife out of the wood.  Dick was shaking his head to try to clear the fuzziness he found there as Damian walked slowly back to the man.  Dick had thought he was defusing the situation, but Damian had just been biding his time.

“I knew exactly what you were doing, you ass,” Damian said as he approached, “I was taught distraction techniques, too.  The difference between you and me is, I was taught how to counter them.  You thought you were actually going to win against me?  You just signed your own death warrant.”

“Hold on, Damian,” Dick said.

Damian kicked Dick’s shoulder, spinning him around.  He then kneed Dick in the spine, sending a shock through Dick’s nervous system before grabbing the man from behind.

Damian held his knife to Dick’s throat and said silkily into his ear, “Any last words before I kill you?”

“You can’t do this, Damian,” Dick croaked out.

The edge of the knife pressed harder into Dick’s neck, drawing a drop of blood.  “Obviously, I can.  Is that really what you want your last words to be?”

Dick wanted to shake his head, but knew he would do more damage to himself that way, “No, I have others.”

“You have a _very_ short time to spit them out, you worthless failure.  I told you not to underestimate me.  I told you I’d kill you.”

Dick took a shallow breath, absolutely believing that he was about to die, “It’s more of a question, actually.  What did you mean when you said I’m just like them?”

Damian smiled, “You’ll have all of eternity to think about that in the afterlife, if there is such a thing.  I’m sure you’re used to disappointment.  Doesn’t matter, though.  You’ll only have a couple seconds to feel your last disappointment.”

Damian pressed the blade firmly into Dick’s neck, and the drop of blood became a trickle.  Dick’s jaw shook as he said, “Please, Damian.  You don’t have to do this.  This won’t solve anything.  This won’t help you.  This won’t stop your loneliness.”

“My loneliness,” Damian snarled, “How dare you presume to tell me how I feel?”

The knife was still pressed to Dick’s neck, but not as firmly as it was a second ago.  Dick kept talking, “You promised Bruce you wouldn’t kill anyone.  Do you want to break your word?”

“Father is DEAD,” Damian roared, “What good is a promise to a dead man?”

“Promises are as much to yourself as they are to the person you make them to,” Dick said quickly.  “You agreed to stop killing, to learn from Bruce.”

“Well, I can’t do that now,” Damian said.  “I can’t learn from someone who isn’t here.”

“You can, Damian.  I can help you with that.”

Damian shook his head, “There is nothing you can teach me that I don’t already know.”

Dick could feel the knife still at his throat, “If you kill me, you’ll never know if that is true.  Your mother left you here to learn everything you could from Bruce.  If she just wanted you to learn fighting and killing, she wouldn’t have brought you here.”

Damian hesitated, and Dick could feel his indecision in the small waver in the blade at his throat. 

“What do you know about it,” Damian asked.

“Give me five minutes, so we can talk,” Dick said.  “If you aren’t interested in anything I have to say at the end of five minutes, you can kill me with a clear head.”

The knife dug a bit deeper into Dick’s neck, “I could kill you now, and stop you from wasting my time.”

“You could,” Dick said, “but you would spend the rest of your life wondering if anything I’m going to say is important or not.”

Damian shook his head, “I’ve heard people beg for their lives before.  I’ve heard people make these same boasts before, trying to save their worthless asses.  I’m not going to lose any sleep over adding you to the list of my victims.”

“If that’s true, then why am I still alive?”

Dick regretted that comment as it was leaving his mouth, but he was unable to stop himself from saying it.  He knew he was in a bad position, and attitude wasn’t going to get him out of it. 

Speaking quickly, lest he lose his head, Dick said, “I’m still alive because you recognize something.  Bruce took me in.  There had to be a reason he did that, and a reason he kept me around.  Your father chose to do that.  If he did that, then maybe I’m worth something.”

The room was tensely still for two full minutes.  Dick felt the knife press into his neck, then lose pressure, then regain it, until finally Damian snarled, pulled the knife away from Dick’s throat, and kicked him in the back to the floor.

“Your five minutes start now.”

Dick rolled over, sat up, and rubbed at his neck.  His hand came away bloody, as he expected.  “Thank you, Damian.  I promise, this will be worth it.  I talked to Bruce about you when you first came to live with us.  He told me about the conversation he had with Talia, and what she was hoping you would get out of being here with us.  She wants you to be a leader.  She left you with Bruce to learn, not just how to stand in front of people, but how to work with them.”

Damian snorted, “That’s just what she told Father.  That’s not what she actually expected.”

Dick shook his head, “Whether that was just something she said or what she actually meant doesn’t matter.  Bruce accepted it, and took you in.  Bruce wanted to help you.  Bruce wanted to see you grow into someone he could respect, not just a killing machine.  He wanted you to grow into someone who could choose what to do with your life on your own, not just follow what others want for you.  I want to see that, too.  Looking at you, Damian, I see a lot of Bruce in you.  You might not see it yourself, but I do.  Bruce isn’t here to raise you anymore,” Dick sniffled hard at saying that, “but that doesn’t mean we’re going to give up on you.  Bruce raised me from the time I was eight.  I think I can pass on his ways and teaching to you, if you will let me.  Alfred will, too.  He raised Bruce from the time our father was ten.”

Damian’s eyes narrowed, and he shouted, “He’s not YOUR FATHER!”

Dick’s eyes widened at the shout, “That hurts, Damian.  I think that hurts more than the knife to the neck.  No, biologically, he isn’t my father, but in every other way possible, I’m more his son than you are.  If you are willing to work with me, I’d like to change that.”

Dick and Damian stared at each other for several seconds before Damian said, “You still have a minute and a half to try to save your life.  You’d better use them better than you used the last three and a half minutes.”

Dick sighed, “That’s all I got, Damian.  If that isn’t enough for you, then I’ll forfeit the last minute.  All I’m asking for is a chance to teach you about your father.”

Damian and Dick stared at each other again for, what Damian had promised would be, the last minute of Dick’s life.  As the countdown in Dick’s head reached zero, Damian reared back and heaved the knife at Dick.  Dick was so surprised by the move that he didn’t try to dodge the flying blade.  He just closed his eyes and waited for the end.

It didn’t come.

Dick looked down and found the knife sticking out of the floor, less than an inch from his leg.  He looked up in shock as Damian sighed heavily.

“I guess you can live,” Damian said softly, “For now.”

“Where does this leave us,” Dick asked.

Damian turned, “There’s no place for me here, without Father.  I’ll call Mother and have her come get me.  You can get back to your life.”

Damian headed for the door, surprising Dick, “What, you’re going to call her now?”

Dick rose and hurried after Damian, “The sooner I call her, the sooner I’ll be away from here.”

“Let’s talk about this, Damian.”

“What is there to talk about?  You don’t want me here.  I don’t want to be here.  Let’s just drop the pretense and end this charade.”

Damian walked determinedly to the cave and dialed his mother’s contact.  The call rang for four full minutes before Talia appeared on the screen.

“Damian?  This isn’t a good time.  What do you want?”

Damian looked up at his mother for the first time in two months, and realized how much he missed seeing her face, “Mother, this experiment hasn’t worked.  When will you come retrieve me?”

Talia looked down strangely, “Are you giving up after only two months?  Surely you haven’t learned everything you can from my Beloved.”

“I have, Mother,” Damian said.

“Impossible.  You aren’t trying hard enough.”

“But, Mother…”

Talia interrupted, “I understand that his ways are different, and you will have to adjust yourself in order to get the most out of this experience, but I will not retrieve you until you have accomplished your goal.”

“It’s not that, Mother…”

Talia interrupted again, “I won’t hear another word about this.  You are not a complainer, and you are not a quitter.  Failure equals death, Damian.  Giving up now is the same as failing.  I don’t have time for this.  Goodbye, Damian.”

Talia disconnected the call before Damian could get another word out.  Damian placed another call immediately, which was answered after just a few seconds.

“I have already given you your answer, Damian.  There is nothing you can say to get me to change my mind.”

“Father is dead, Mother,” Damian said before he could get interrupted again.

Silence reigned for a dozen seconds before Talia was able to ask, “What do you mean, he’s dead?”

“He’s dead,” Damian said in a small voice.

“What did you do,” Talia accused.

Dick spoke up, “He didn’t do anything, Talia.  It happened a week ago, on a Justice League mission.”

“Gotham news feeds have been conspicuously quiet about such an event.  Are you just trying to get rid of Damian?”

Dick sighed, “I haven’t told the press anything.  I…I can’t bring myself to.  Whether it’s been officially reported or not, Bruce really is gone.”

Damian nodded, “You said my goal was to learn from Father.  I can’t do that now.  I can’t learn from a dead man.  Since my mission is no longer viable, I request extraction.”

Talia released a breath, “Damian, I can’t deal with this right now.  The League is under siege, and I can’t be spared to come get you.  We are in a very precarious situation right now.  If the League is to survive, I need to focus exclusively on operations.”

Damian looked down, “I see.  Will you at least keep me updated?”

“I don’t have time for this, Damian,” Talia said.

Damian’s voice sounded weaker to Dick, “How is Grandfather?”

“Good, as always.”

Talia disconnected the call.  Damian released a sigh and headed for the stairs.

Dick followed and asked, “What does that mean?”

“She’s not coming,” Damian said, “I’m essentially stranded here.  I was right.  She doesn’t want me back.”

Dick followed Damian back up to the boy’s room.  Damian sat on the edge of his bed, looking lost.

Dick took a seat next to the boy and said, “My offer still stands, Damian.  You don’t have to leave.  We can work this out.”

Damian rolled his eyes, “You don’t care.  You’re just like her.  You don’t want me any more than she does.”

“Damian, what are you talking about?”

Damian turned and glared at Dick, “You think I don’t know?  You think I don’t know how you feel about me?  You think I didn’t hear you and Pennyworth talking earlier?”

Dick took a breath, “Is that why you knocked over the clock?”

“It shouldn’t have gotten in my way,” Damian said.

Dick laughed, “Damian, that clock hasn’t been moved in over one hundred years.  I’m pretty sure it didn’t jump out in front of you.”

“It doesn’t matter what happened,” Damian growled, “What matters is that you are just like Mother.”

Dick shook his head, “That’s the third time you’ve said that.  What do you mean by that?”

Damian looked away, “You just saw how anxious Mother is to get me back.  She would have been happier if we told her that I died, instead of Father.  She doesn’t want me.  Earlier, I heard you and Pennyworth talking in Father’s study.  He is barely dead for a week, and you’re already plotting to send me away.  You don’t want me, either.”

Dick thought for a second, then smiled, “Damian, you got it all wrong.”

“How,” Damian asked.  “Pennyworth said you should wait before sending me to school.  Whether you do it now or later, you are still sending me away.”

“We’re not,” Dick said.  “Okay, yes, we are sending you to school, but that doesn’t mean you will be leaving here.  You won’t be living at the school.  You’ll be living here.  The school is just a few miles away.  It’s the same one Bruce sent me to.  It’s also the same one Bruce’s parents sent him to.  The Wayne family has a history with this school going back hundreds of years.”

Damian thought about that for a minute.  _They aren’t sending me away?  Is he telling the truth, or is this just some elaborate plan?  I would still rather have Mother come get me._

“You…you aren’t sending me away?”

Dick gave an honest smile, “No, we aren’t.  That’s not what Bruce wanted for you, and before you say there’s no way we could know what Bruce would want, he told me what he wanted to do when he told me about his talk with your mother.  I trust Bruce more than anyone in this world.  If he said this is what should happen, then I’ll do my best to make that happen.”

“So, what happens now,” Damian asked.

“Now, we start over.  It won’t be easy, adjusting to a life so different from the one you’re used to, but it is your mission.  Talia said you are here to learn from your Father.  I learned from your father, and I would be happy to pass on everything he taught me.  I’m sorry to say it is the best we can do now.  To start, Damian Wayne will clean up the mess he made in the hall.”

“My name is Damian Al Ghul,” Damian said sharply.

Dick leaned in a bit closer, “Yes, but according to standard naming conventions, since Bruce Wayne is your father, you are entitled to take the Wayne name.”

Damian cocked his head, “Damian Wayne?  I guess that doesn’t sound too abominable.”

Dick stared deeply into Damian’s eyes, making the youth feel just a bit uncomfortable.  “Damian, as much as I hate to admit it, your Father is gone.  Your Mother is pretty much forcing you to stay here for the time being.  I think you’re feeling pretty abandoned right now.  You don’t have to answer to that; just listen.  I know what that loss feels like; I’ve been through it before.  I know I’m not your Father or Mother, but I’m here.  I’m here for you.  I think you need someone to be here for you.  If you want, I’ll continue to be here for you.”

“What do you mean,” Damian asked.

Dick took a breath, “I promise, right here and now, to you, that I will always be there for you when you need me.  When you need anyone, you can come to me.  Bruce wanted us to be brothers, and that is just what I’m offering to you.  I’ll be there for you.  You never even have to ask.  There will always be time for you in my schedule.  Do you think that is something you want?”

Damian remained silent for a minute before saying slowly, “If…if it’s something that Father wanted, and if I’m going to be here anyway, I suppose that isn’t too bad an option.”

“Is that a yes,” Dick asked.

Damian looked up, “Brothers?  I don’t know how to do that.  I like the idea of…learning about my Father, though.”

 _That’s not what he wanted to say,_ Dick thought, _but I’ll take it._   “It’s a learning process, and we all have to start somewhere.  So, what do you say?  Can we start teaching Damian Al Ghul what it means to be Damian Wayne?”

“I suppose so,” Damian said.  “That name will take a while to get used to, but it’s starting to grow on me.”

Dick patted Damian’s shoulder, and the boy flinched back sharply.  _Hmm.  We’ll have to talk about that reaction at another time._   “Good.  I’m glad you like it, because I already wrote it on your school admission forms.  We’ll talk more about when you will be starting school later.”

Damian rolled his eyes, “I don’t see why I have to go to school.  Mother saw to my education.  I’ve been instructed by some of the finest professors in the world.  I highly doubt there is anything I can learn from a children’s school.”

“How about how to act like a child,” Dick asked, “That isn’t something you can learn from the League of Assassins.”

“When could I possibly need to know that?”

Dick shrugged, “You never know.  Come on, let’s get you started on cleaning up the clock.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Damian said.

Dick stood, “Yes, it will.  Think of it this way.  If you clean up the mess you made, Alfred won’t be nearly as mad at you when he sees what you did to my face.”

“You deserved that,” Damian said, “I’m a killer.  You shouldn’t have told me to attack you.”

“I didn’t tell you to attack me,” Dick said as he headed for the door, “I told you to kill me, and you didn’t.”

Damian smirked as he followed the older man into the hall, “The day isn’t over yet.”

 

**A/N:  So, no, I didn’t just kill off Bruce.  This isn’t supposed to be taking place now.  I decided to go back in time to write the beginning of Dick and Damian’s relationship.  I was writing something for a future work, and I wanted to go back and put a bit of context into my timeline.  Writing this has really made me realize just how much I’ve changed Damian’s character in my stories.**

**Like I said, this will come up in a future work.  Not including this one, I am currently writing nine separate stories.  I’ll have to choose one or two to focus on, though, because I’m starting to get confused on my plot points.**

**Let me know what you think of this little blast from the past.  I say little, because this was only supposed to be around 2500 words.  I let my mind wander again, and ended up with this.  I’d love to hear your thoughts, since this is a lead-in to another story or two in the works.**

**Thanks for playing along.**


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